Page 51 of Harris

Harris now understood why the guy always wore high-collared shirts and jackets. It was to hide the shock collar used by Soloman to control him.

“Let’s go. Brick and the other team are on Soloman’s trail,” Shaw said. “They’ve cleaned everything out of the basement. There’s nothing left.”

“Was Soloman planning on leaving his son here chained to the floor to die?” Hendrix asked. “That’s messed up.”

“We better get Spencer to check his blood to determine what drug was used on him, just in case,” Harris said.

“Agreed. Let’s go.”

***

Woodley

They’d tracked Soloman to a warehouse outside the city close to the port. It was only minutes before midnight, and the way the guy had been driving around the city aimlessly led him to believe he was wary of having a tail or perhaps waiting for a call with directions. Since they had a tracker on his car, it was unnecessary to come within visual range and risk spooking the guy.

Brick, Stryker, Damon, Darren, Griffin, and he had done a couple hours of surveillance. They’d split up into two teams to make their way inside the warehouse and have a look around as silently as possible before taking Soloman down.

He, Stryker, and Damon would take the east side of the building, while Brick, Darren, and Griffin took the north. Woodley couldn’t help but hope Harris’s mission was a success. The area around the warehouse was littered with derelict shipping containers and forklifts. It was a graveyard of rusted metal with broken glass sprinkled in like confetti.

They had to be careful not to step on or run into random pieces of metal scraps that would give their location away and ruin the elements of surprise. The building was in the same condition as the shipping containers, with gaping holes everywhere from disrepair or previous visitors.

Accessing the building wouldn’t be too difficult, but doing it without making a sound would be more challenging. They approached the first opening large enough to fit through and Stryker took a quick look inside.

With a nod, Stryker went through as he and Damon stood guard. They waited a few seconds, and then Woodley and Damon followed. Once inside, they used their night vision goggles and moved farther into the building. The interior appeared to be the shell of some old processing plant. Considering their vicinity to the port, Woodley assumed it was for fish.

“We’re in,” Stryker said through the comms to the other team. “Looks deserted, but the guy’s got to be here somewhere.”

“Roger, still making our way across the side of the building,” Brick responded. “Reports in that the other team found Soloman’s son unconscious and chained to the floor.”

That wasn’t what Woodley had expected. Maybe the guy wasn’t working for the psycho.

Stryker motioned for them to move forward. Woodley pressed his back against the wall as they approached an opening with the door lying a couple feet away. In one synchronized move,Woodley turned the corner, and Stryker followed him in while Damon remained in the hallway as a lookout. Hard and fast was the name of the game with these smaller rooms. They had to keep the element of surprise on their side.

The room was empty, covered in dust and cobwebs. No one had entered in a long time. They continued down the hall, repeating the process at every door they came to, but still came up empty.

“In,” Brick announced. “Working our way east.”

“Roger.”

Woodley looked back at Damon, who shrugged, wondering the same thing. Where the hell was Soloman? They passed large machines with old conveyors running almost the length of the building, and just when he was about to suggest turning in another direction, a faint glow spread out from behind a large stamping press.

He didn’t like it. There wasn’t a sound. Were they being set up?

In the next second, he had his answer.

“You might as well come out. I know you’re there,” Soloman’s voice broke through the silence. “I’ve been waiting for you and don’t get any ideas; I’m rigged to blow this entire building to bits. Make me wait too long, and I might do it for the hell of it. There’s enough explosives to take you freaks along with me just like you did my bar. There’s no way in hell I’m being taken in.”

They couldn’t see him just yet, but Woodley imagined the fucker standing on the other side of this machine, holding a detonator and grinning wide. God, he’d never wanted to put a bullet into someone more in his life.

Stryker moved forward, rifle up and at the ready. If anyone had a chance of taking out the asshole before he hit the button, it was Stryker. The man never missed. Woodley followed himout but motioned for Damon to stay behind, out of sight, in case Soloman didn’t know how many people were on the team.

When they rounded the machine, they found Soloman sitting on a folding chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. Under the chair sat a package no bigger than a shoebox with wires running up and under the seat. That’s when he realized Soloman wasn’t holding the detonator. The fucker was sitting on it. If he stood up, it would blow. If someone shot him and he fell off, it would blow. Stryker’s talent was neutralized, and they were well and truly screwed.

“Welcome,” Soloman said. “Come on over.”

Gator’s voice came through the comms with absolute calm. “You need to pull the wires free from the box under his chair before he has a chance to stand.”

That was when Woodley remembered they were wearing cameras with a live feed leading back to the rental, where the rest of the team was waiting. Sure, remove the wires. The next question was, how did they get close enough to do that?

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